


Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx

by iCeDreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comes with Spotify Playlist, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Endgame Castiel/Dean Winchester, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., Episode: s05e18 Point of No Return, Episode: s06e01 Exile on Main St., Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Episode: s08e02 What's Up Tiger Mommy?, Episode: s08e10 Torn and Frayed, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s09e07 Bad Boys, Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Episode: s11e04 Baby, Episode: s11e23 Alpha and Omega, Episode: s12e18 The Memory Remains, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Inspired by Music, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mixtape, Music, Pining, Playlist, accompanying music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iCeDreams/pseuds/iCeDreams
Summary: Dean's love language is told not in words, but in songs. In the notes of his favorite rock band and the rhythm of their melodies. His longest unfinished work is composed of Led Zeppelin songs, chosen for the feelings they evoke. It's Dean's life, reflected into one mix and shared carefully in hopes that he would be heard and understood.





	1. Chase a Feather in the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Aldasiel for the technical aspects of this fic and being the main inspiration to write this. He's been patient with all the midnight questions and generally the impetus to write this. 
> 
> Thank you to my betas: to [MaggieMaybe160](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160) for taking on the entire headache of tenses this fic was, to [fangirlingtodeath513](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingtodeath513/pseuds/fangirlingtodeath513) and to [ltleflrt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt) for the Dean Voice, the Americanisms and additional grammar input , and just the entire Discord for moments that go: what would Dean remember about his mom? what would Dean teach a young kid about cars? what type of stereo does Cas' truck have?
> 
> I would also like to give a special shout out to [foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley) for introducing me to Discord in the first place.
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> You are all my reasons.

 

> "Making a tape is like writing a letter – there's a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again. A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do."  
>  **Rob Gordon**  
>  _High Fidelity_

* * *

BOISE, IDAHO 1985

The first time Dean remembers making a mixtape, he was seven, and he just got back from school. Sammy getting a fever had worried him the whole day but Dad told Dean that he should still go to school.

He’d skipped the last class by slipping out through a high window in the bathroom and then going under the chain-link fences he’d noticed was loose when Dad’d enrolled him. He found Dad sitting on one of the motel’s double beds, cradling Sammy’s head on his lap. He was holding something clasped loosely between his palms, his head bowed. There was a familiar shoebox at his feet with a row of neatly labeled tapes: his dad’s prized possessions. He’d been told repeatedly that the cassettes were not toys, but handed a pistol in the next breath for target practice.

Dad noticed Dean standing unsurely by the doorway, his eyes narrowing at the boy then looking at the time. Dean looked at his dad sheepishly, realizing that he’d planned the entire break-out-of-school poorly and that dad would’ve known. He rushed to sit beside his dad, but Dad’s hand clamped tightly on his shoulder before Dean could make any sudden movements, once he was close enough. With a significant glance towards Sammy, his dad released Dean and put down the cassette with the rest of the tapes in the box.

In the background, the sound of a tambourine and an acoustic guitar broke out, shifting from a soft sad piano melody into something more upbeat: _Na, na, na, na, na, na._ Dad reached carefully across to the radio beside the shoebox, switching from cassette to FM. The strain of  _That’s What Friends Are For_ filtered through before Dad grimaced and turned it off entirely.

Uncomfortable with the abrupt silence, Dean fidgeted, but felt the heavy weight of his dad’s eyes on him, waiting for an explanation. Dean settled with: “I remember that song, sir.”

Dad shook his head, acknowledging the evasion for what it was. “I should think so. It’s been playing on air whenever we pass a store or someone messes with the Impala’s radio.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head, his hand carding through Sam’s hair. “No, I meant… na, na, na, na, na, na,” Dean imitated and half hummed through the remembered melody. It seemed familiar somehow, like an old friend.

His dad was silent for so long that Dean thought the conversation was over. When he glanced at Dad, he was blinking rapidly, his eyes red and a pained expression on his face. “Your mother sang that instead of a lullaby to you and Sam because—” Dad’s voice broke before he cleared his throat and continued, “—it was her favorite Beatles song.”

Amazed, Dean hoarded this information along with everything else he learned: she believed in angels, she loved pie, and she smelled likes the roses from their neighbor’s garden. Dean remembered this because dad would bring home a rose for mom when he was away for a long time, and though she would complain about the expense, she always lit up like the fourth of July when he presented it with a flourish. Dean leaned on his dad’s arm, and he felt his dad stiffen at the contact, even as the man allowed it.

“What are you doing, Dean?” his dad whispered, still careful with Sammy.

“I’m helping you cry, Dad,” Dean whispered back.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Dad before he gently settled Sam onto the bed. Dad leaned over Dean, a hand on the boy’s shoulder, the grip firm but not painful. Dean waited expectantly for what his dad would say, but no words came to fill the silence. There was strain in his dad’s eyes and hints of tiredness. It was not easy learning to be a hunter and taking care of two boys. His dad had explained this all to Dean some time ago.

There was a loud bang from one of the other motel room doors, making Dad look at the windows sharply. Sammy shifted positions, but he didn’t stir. Moment broken, Dad collected the shoebox along with the radio and set them on the cramped table. He exchanged the tape for another, which Dean saw was a Beatles album. Dad then checked the leaf that came with the cassette before flipping it to the other side and rewinding. Once satisfied, he took a blank cartridge, and using a pencil; he wound it a little before setting it on the other deck.

“This circle is the record button, son, you press it together with the play button so you can make a copy of the song playing on the other tape to this one.” Dad pressed play on the left with white noise from the beginning of the cassette playing.

Dutifully, Dean pressed both buttons, the click sounding loudly in the room before  _Hey Jude_ played. Once the song had ended, Dad stopped the recording and ejected both tapes before he handed his son the tape. “If you find songs you like, we can add it at the end so you have your own special track.”

Dad told Dean the story of how he and his mother met and gave Dean his first Led Zeppelin tape for his birthday. Dean remembers that year because it was also the time that Dean became proficient with the gun, and the moment his dad started to give Dean more and more responsibility with raising Sam. By the end of the next year, Dad learned he could leave Dean in charge of his younger brother for short periods of the night during evening hunts. He didn’t take off for more than a day, and never during school days.

That ended three years later when his dad left them with Bobby when he knew he would be gone for longer periods of time. The hunt and Mary’s killer proved to be a stronger siren song than parenthood and his boys. The same year while waiting for John on a long case, Dean completed his mixtape: Dean’s Amazing Tracks. It was filled with abrupt stops, loud clicks from when he was turning on the record, and the last song was truncated because he hadn’t quite realized that he should have planned for the length of time before recording. But it was his, and he played it with a second-hand Walkman when he went to school.

* * *

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA 1992

The first time Dean created a mixtape for someone else, he was thirteen. It was because Christmas was coming up, and he didn’t have money to give anyone gifts. He recorded mixtapes out of old cassettes that no one played and he would create more as the years went by. These first three were lost (mostly through frequent moves and explosions) but his recipients remembered, and that was all that mattered.

He made time for it after school between cooking for Sam and waiting for Dad to come home from the hunt. He recorded John’s songs effortlessly, because he knew his dad’s favorite tunes, like his choice in breakfast food and hunting gear. Once he finished that, Bobby’s went just as smoothly. Bobby’s taste in music was sort of dad-adjacent. So it was a mix of Creedence Clearwater Revival, Johnny Cash and Lynyrd Skynyrd with a dash of Tori Amos _,_  to add flavor.

Now during Sam’s tape, he wavered. While Dean preferred classic rock, Sammy hadn’t shown a preference one way or another yet. So Sam’s gift was a combination of eclectic pieces that Dean sometimes wrinkled his nose at. But hey, Sammy might be a Gin Blossoms or a Green Jelly guy, there was no accounting for taste.

Some original melodies from the old tapes bled through, but it was pretty decent work. Dean had already learned how to space the songs and gotten a general feel for the transitions and the cohesiveness or the lack of it... for the most part. He was proud of the work and wrapped it up in a newspaper.

When Christmas break finally came around, Dad made towards Sioux Falls. It was close by a terrible hunt that he’d been called about in Rochester and Bobby’s was on the way.

Dean tucked the cassette in his dad’s shoebox before Dad drove off. Bobby had a disgruntled air of half an argument when his eyes settled on the Winchesters. But the tightness evened out into the gruff sour look they often associated with him.

Bobby sighed before inclining his head towards the stairs. “You know the drill boys. Go on. Your dad said he’ll try to be back before supper tomorrow.”

Sam dragged his feet across the rickety boards, being a bit petulant about the entire move, but Dean helped him to get settled. Tomorrow was Christmas morning, but Sammy wasn’t used to celebrating the season and Dean himself barely remembered Christmas cookies and baked apple pies.

Once they got to the spare bedroom, Sam heaved himself heavily across the single bed and pouted. “Your face is gonna get stuck that way, Sammy,” Dean teased, pulling out fresh clothes for Sam to change into before bedtime.

“Amy from my class said that she asked her dad for a pony this year,” Sam stated randomly, flopping on top of the sheets and staring at the ceiling. It was the first Dean’d heard of an Amy. Sam was usually talkative about school; he didn’t make lots of friends, the nature of kids who moved a lot, but he shared most of his days with Dean. So, Dean figured, this little tidbit was more about the request than the person.

He shifted Sam to make room for himself on the bed, sitting on the edge. “You know Dad does this to save all the other kids so they have homes to return to and get to ask for ponies for Christmas.”

Sam folded his arms across his chest and pouted even harder. “He could have stayed for Christmas morning and  _then_  left.”

“We ain’t big on holidays, Sam,” Dean tried to reason, putting a hand on Sam’s arm. He was the older brother, he was supposed to make peace. And there were plenty of families that didn’t celebrate Christmas or birthdays, Dean told himself. Sam didn’t complain much, but he was around children his age and picked up fast. Dean had actually been steeling himself for the moment to come sooner rather than later.

It was important that Sam felt loved, more than anything. So Dean pulled up his bag, rummaging around for a second before tapping Sam’s shoulder with the mixtape wrapped in newspaper.

Sam’s eyes widened before tearing the paper away. “Did you make this for me?”

Dean grins. “Is there any other  _Sammy_  in the room?”

Sam flipped the tape over and checked the label that Dean’d plastered on over the old one:  _Sammy’s Music Mix._ “Do you think Dad will let me play it in the car?”

Dean scrunched his face. Not with the type of songs that were on there. “Weeeell, you could borrow my Walkman  _sometimes_.”

Sammy giggled but frowned when he looks at the time. “But it’s just Christmas Eve, I should have opened it Christmas morning!” Apparently, Sam was the type of kid who hoarded presents and waited for Christmas morning before opening. Good to know.

“It’s our special tradition then, Christmas Eve.” Sam smiled before he got ready to bed.

The next day, Dean presented his tape to Bobby and received an awkward hug for it. Dad never made it for Christmas. A chupacabra held him up by a state over, but he did call in to say that he enjoyed the gift.

* * *

HURLEYVILLE, NEW YORK 1995

The next time he made a mixtape for someone else, it was in Sonny’s Home for Boys, and he wanted to give it to Robin after the school dance. Their tastes in music were vastly different; she liked acoustic guitars you could sing with and he wanted to be a rock star. He took the time to listen to songs that would work beautifully in acoustic before plotting out his tape. At that point, Dean had learned that he should plan the sequence so that the spacing was just right. So he had a pen and paper with a watch, timing his choices, and deciding between a 60-minute or a 90-minute blank tape.

Once he’d decided on the target length and had a list of songs, it was time to record. He didn’t have a double deck cassette in Sonny’s and didn’t have tapes for her music anyway, so he waited for the DJ to play the songs. He brought a boombox when he wasn’t with Robin. He carried it during chores, sat beside it while he worked on homework and played it before bed. The only occasion Sunny didn’t allow it was during dinner when Sonny told the boys to socialize with each other.

He painstakingly waited for each song on the radio, pressing record when the DJ finally deigned to choose the song next on his list. Sometimes he cursed heatedly when the DJ  _talked_  through the ending of the particular piece causing another wait.

The entirety of side one was mostly Dean’s life reflected before the police had sent him to Sonny’s and therefore before he’d met Robin. He started out with  _Tears in Heaven_ because it was how he felt when he first came into the place: that he didn’t belong there. He placed  _Everybody Hurts_  in between because he was that anxious and awake at night just thinking about what was happening. That song kinda made him raw. It was a song that reached out to teens who suffered through hopelessness and it made him think about what could have happened if Sonny hadn’t taken him in. He put in  _Creep_  before he could change his mind about it.

Side two was more positive, with songs like  _Wonderwall,_ which was about being saved. It has such nice easy chords but with difficult strumming, so Dean tried to practice it a couple of times when he had Robin’s guitar. He finished side two with the newly released  _You Were Meant for Me._ Which was upbeat and just perfect for Robin to sing… even if it was kinda presumptuous and cheesy. He placed the entire thing in his pocket before he fixed his tie to go out for the dance.

He never did get to give the tape to Robin before his dad took him away for the job.

* * *

INTERSTATE - 80 1996

Just like his dad, he kept his tapes in a shoebox, labeled with a black sharpie. He used it when his dad let him pick a tape for their drives, or between classes when he had time. He smiled proudly at himself when Dad ordered, “turn up the volume, son,” while one of his mixtapes was on. Once the recording ended, Dad grinned and nodded. “Go ahead and choose another one.”

Dean beamed all the way to their next motel, while Sam was playing with his airplane in the backseat. Sometimes his dad would listen to his recording and give him advice on how to improve. “The first rule of mixtapes, son, is  _never_  add anything from the top 10 hits,” John proclaimed.

Dean listened to those pearls of wisdom and included them with the essentials: take care of Sammy and always bring salt. “You want it to be special, you don’t want something you could just tune in any time on the radio to listen to.”

Years passed and Dean still made mixtapes, but none to give out. He’d been in and out of school, so he had no one to make them for, let alone the time to do it. Especially since Dad had brought him out to do more hunting.

When his dad died, he felt he wouldn’t be able to record mixtapes anymore. After hunting, the shared love of music and the Impala were his father’s gifts to him. And though his love for the Impala was fierce and undying, creating mixes were about baring a piece of your soul. He thought he’d lost the ability to create or to find the joy in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been having John Winchester feels lately and I have mostly been in the, _John Winchester is a shitty father, but he really loves his boys camp_. Or maybe it's because I also have a tough love for a dad, really military like and iron fist which is how _he,_ in turn, was brought up. So though I don't _condone_ the way John brought up his kids, I _understand_ it. I hope we get a glimpse in the 300th episode and _closure._
> 
> Thanks for reading! c&c welcome. Will update Tuesday to Wednesday next week.
> 
> Robin's Playlist can be heard in: [Robin in Acoustic](https://open.spotify.com/user/gur7pukgzappiqhp5p7hj2qiq/playlist/7zZrGVBcj7BRpoLDooOvxI)  
> (I wanted to add Take me Home, Country Roads... but... it was a 1997 song. I guess it's a BONUS track then XD)


	2. Living Reflections from a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's Playlist could be followed along in Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/gur7pukgzappiqhp5p7hj2qiq/playlist/0XmD14KTG09CHyX4F1adJj)

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA 2009

An itch begins in Dean whenever he starts recording songs. It feels the same when he needs to get out on long drives with Baby or when he needs to go out and hunt things. So goes the need to put this vague feeling into a tape and express himself in a way that he can't with words.

That's how he found himself needing to make that particular tape.

Dean recorded _Ramble On_ after his brother decided to give up hunting and Cas helped him with his hunts. Besides, _Ramble On_ felt like the theme song of his life. And because you can't have _Ramble On_ without his other favorite song, _Travelling Riverside Blues_ , he recorded that next. Sam rejoined them; life went on.

He remembered the next song he had chosen because they were all feeling black and reminded of how short their lives were going to be. He played _In the Evening_ on repeat while looking through the case files on Carthage. Sam furrowed his brow followed by a single arch (Dean didn't even know why Sam bothered anymore.)

Sam looked pointedly at the radio with the synthesizer played continuously followed by Plant shrilling: _She don't show no pity baby_. Dean shrugged, it was a perfect reflection of his mood since he'd just had his last-night-on-Earth-speech rejected. Seriously, who does that?

Sam rolled his eyes and took his beer, but continued reading through the files even though they both knew it wasn't going to change much of anything. Dean allowed Sam the concession, but let the track slip through to _South Bound Saurez_.

Before he tried for his four hours, he went to his trusty shoebox and picked up the incomplete tape that had his two favorite songs. Cas found him fiddling with the radio on the porch, while everyone else was settling down for the night.

Dean acknowledged the angel with half a nod, his attention entirely on rewinding his tape and finding the correct times. He tensed when the angel stepped closer, watching him with the radio propped up on the banister. Dean cleared his throat, "You should steal the couch or something soon. Too many people. Not a lot of sleeping space."

Cas tilted his head before he answered, "I don't sleep."

Dean snorted and pointed to a chair. "Would you just sit down already?" Cas dutifully followed the order even if he probably didn't understand the reasoning.

Which yeah… he and Cas had moved on from becoming reluctant allies to being friends. And friends got a pass when listening to music, right? Besides, Cas really needed to learn a bit of pop culture, what better introduction than Zepp?

Once the guitars and the synthesizer replaced the sounds of the crickets, Dean turned to Cas. "This song was supposed to be in the movie _Lucifer Rising_." Cas frowned as he took in the words before nodding slowly, listening to the beginning strains of the guitar.

"A very appropriate song then, given our circumstances," Castiel commented.

Out of the blue, Dean was laughing so hard. He laughed because otherwise, he might have broken something, or worse: cried. _In the Evening_ was the song he chose for their death dirge because he thought he was being a smart ass. It was the equivalent of spitting in the devil's eye, and no one but a fallen angel would get the black humor in it.

His laugh petered out to rasping breaths, and he straightened himself out. All the while, Cas had a small not-smile on his face. If Dean could put a word to it, he'd call it fondness; he was growing on the angel.

He'd wanted this song on the tape even if he would never be allowed to listen to it again. He could only play the song that night before turning in.

Once the song was complete, he stopped the tape, set it carefully back with the rest of his cassettes and brought the radio into the house so he could bring it back to its rightful place in the library. Castiel watched him from his side of the porch, eyes boring into him.

"Dude, last night on earth shouldn't be spent staring at nothing," Dean said, opening the door in invitation. The last creaks of the house were settling over them, most of the occupants already finding their place for the night. Dean trusted that Sam saved him his usual spot.

Castiel shook his head and folded his hands together. "I'll watch over all of you. Rest, Dean, tomorrow is going to be a long day."

They didn't die in Carthage. Not _all_ of them died in Carthage. Dean clung to the mixtape in his moments alone and recorded _Stairway to Heaven._ It was a depressing way to look at it, but when was the hunting life ever not bleak?

* * *

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA, 2009

There's a song Dean plays after bad hunts, he plays it on repeat with the stereo on so loud so that he can't hear himself think as he beats himself up continuously. _Good Times, Bad Times_ was just so aptly named for anger drinking. Hearing the bass and the drum beat over and over again was better than the self-doubt and the pounding in his head. Usually, he doused the entire feeling with whiskey and continued to wallow in misery with the bass. He'd picked it up after Cas beat him bloody for attempting to say "yes" to Michael.

After that awful heart-to-heart with Sam that he did not want to repeat, he played _Good Times, Bad Times_ because he couldn't drink his anger and frustration before they set out on a rescue mission for Adam. So while they waited on Cas to get back from his recon, he paced around Bobby's panic room and let the guitar and the drums reverberate along the walls.

After he had played it twelve times (a lower count than when Dad died, but higher than that time when Sam was nabbed in Hibbing, and he was going around like a headless chicken) he got his work in progress from his shoebox and recorded the song onto it.

"Another song?" Castiel asked when he appeared in the panic room, the reverberation hollowly echoing in the room.

Dean sullenly went to the tape deck and stopped the recording just as the song was ending. He could still feel the bruises where Cas'd thrown him against the chain-link fence, and the split lip was aching like a bitch, all the more seeking attention now that the person responsible for it was standing in front of him.

Cas walked up to Dean, but not in his usual too-close-for-comfort way, and he leaned in to lay a hand on his forehead. Dean turned his head away because he didn't want it. He deserved that beating, but he wasn't sorry for it. What he said to Sam was still true: he'd say yes to Michael in a heartbeat.

Castiel closed his hand into a fist in frustration before he accepted the decision and stepped back from Dean. Dean had time to put the recording safely away before Cas looked for Sam and took them to Van Nuys.

Dean forgot about the tape, because of the apocalypse. Lucifer fell back into the cage, taking Sam along with him. Castiel left for Heaven, and Dean stopped recording songs.

He forgot about the tape, just as he covered Baby in a tarp to protect her in Lisa's garage. Covering in it, as well, his shoebox of memories.

* * *

CICERO, INDIANA 2010

Dean's life in Cicero was as normal as it was going to be given that he was a hunter and was easily spooked. He had billiards nights with the neighbors, occasional beer nights at the bar, legitimate work at a construction company and a son in Ben, who was turning out great. He even had yard work.

What he didn't have was music. Lisa was more of the Tibetan yodeling, classical music, Zen type of gal, and the harsh guitars and sexualized shouting of classic rock didn't exactly run in harmony with that.

Unfortunately for both Dean and his music preferences, all they had in the house was an iPod and their old boombox that had a CD player. Not a cassette player in sight, and it wasn't as if his songs were gonna get played on the radio.

So Dean was staring forlornly at the radio that was playing _Beautiful Loser_ when Ben came into the garage with his stool to help with the truck. By the time Ben was set up to learn about oil changes, the pop beat of _I Got a Feeling_ was playing on the station, and Dean hit his head against the hood when the futuristic synthesizers played to glare at the radio.

Ben gave a loud belly laugh before he said, "you really hate new songs, huh?"

"No, I hate _crappy_ songs," Dean corrected and got a rag to wipe his hands before he walked to the radio and changed stations, none of whom were playing anything remotely to his taste. "It wouldn't even be that bad if just wasn't _everywhere_. You stop at a store to buy nails, and it's there, you get gas, and it's there. It's a conspiracy of DJs."

Ben drummed his fingers on the truck as he looked at Dean getting annoyed at every station before he hopped down from the stool and tugged on Dean's arm. "You know… mom has a CD burner in the computer."

Confused, Dean closed the hood before they entered the house and Ben taught him about mp3s and iPods. Once he got the hang of it, he made a CD mix for Lisa, trying to give her a bit of 90s slow rock mixed with light rock. Dean included a couple of Creedence Clearwater Revival in the form of _Have You Ever Seen the Rain_ in it, which was a happy in-between of their tastes. He finished that in an hour, and while it was faster, it left him unfulfilled.

He finally gave in and ordered a cassette player from Amazon, then remembered his unfinished tape.

He searched for it frantically, though logically he knew that it was where it had always been: in his beloved shoebox, under the front passenger's seat of the Impala.

He heaved a sigh of relief as he covered it with his hands. He ran his hand along the case before he popped the cassette out, rediscovering the project he'd left behind by touch before he played it. He spooled the tape forward and backward because it'd been a while since he took it out, straightening the ribbon by carefully winding the hubs. He proceeded to listen to what he'd made previously, dragging a chair into the garage and using his newly bought cassette player.

He remembered recording _Ramble On_ and _Travelling Riverside Blues_ , but the rest of the songs were like rediscovering an old friend. Playing the music gave him a visceral reaction to the times when he'd recorded those songs, in hope, in bitter remorse, in resentment.

It was still woefully unfinished, and as the last chords of _Good Times, Bad Times_ hung in the air, he wondered what Cas was doing in Heaven now. Policing all the angels, just as he'd done when he'd shown Dean his wrath for his betrayal? Fulfilling the role of Heaven's sheriff?

He rooted through his old shoe box, sifting through and finally landing on _Physical Graffiti_ , which he played in the empty garage. He leaned on the Impala, just listening to the album, the familiar melodies soothing his jangling nerves. His throat constricted when he heard the opening lyrics of the next song: _I received a message from my brother across the water_. He listened to the song about a man who dodged a military draft with a heavy heart.

Once the song was finished, he rewound the tape and then picked up his mix from the shoebox, winding that to a proper point and recorded _Night Flight_. Lisa found him in the garage just as the song was ending. She coaxed him to bed, but the heaviness in his heart didn't leave him.

The next day, a hunt found Dean, and he was forcibly dragged away.

* * *

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA 2011

Dean had taken to calling the mixtape his unfinished song.

While any mixtape always has a piece of the creator with it, this particular one felt like a reflection of his soul. It was raw, an offering to an unknown someone to listen to the conversation that'd been too difficult to start. It didn't have a theme. It wasn't carefully planned out, the overall composition depending on his particular mood. It was filled with Led Zeppelin, and he played it in moments when he needed an escape or when the hunter needed to remember something that he couldn't talk about.

Sometimes he didn't have a song to add to the mix, but listening to the mixtape was always a comfort. He used it to ground himself as he had to after he'd watched Cas walk out into the lake, releasing the Leviathans with his trench coat drifting ashore soon after. There'd been no sign of Cas after that. That night, with both a little bit of anger and a whole lot of unsettled feelings from the unfinished business between him and the missing angel, he went to his cassette player and recorded _Your Time is Gonna Come._

He drifted off to sleep with the chorus repeating itself over and over, and the cassette proceeded to record the next songs onto the track.

In the morning, Dean cursed at the tape and chucked it in the bin after he rewound it to listen to what he had done. The entire tape was just a recopy of the first Led Zeppelin album after _Your Time is Gonna Come_ , and continued on to _Communication Breakdown_ and _I Can't Quit You, Baby_ , before it stopped because his recording ran out of time.

It took finding Emmanuel, regaining Cas only to lose him again, though this time to the mental institution, for Dean to search through his old shoebox of cassettes and look for his mix. In all honesty, it was probably the Cas with the bees that did him in. That was quite frankly hilarious and also needed a song. Sam watched Dean's frantic search through the box before finally saying, "What are you looking for?"

"The unfinished tape," Dean grunted in frustration, aggressively flipping each tape in the box one by one and reading through the labels. Later, he regretted being short with Sam, but at that moment, he was getting tunnel vision. He was short-sighted and angry, unable to find what he was looking for.

Confusion registered on Sam's face, followed by a nose flare that was usually a herald of an impending talk, for which Dean did not have the time or energy. He _needed_ to find that tape. He fended Sam off by asking, "have you touched this box?"

"What? No!" Sam said defensively, arms out placatingly while Dean went through the Impala from front to back five times. Sam watched with amusement, while Bobby gave them one look and disappeared inside the house with a muttered, "idjits."

Only after he interrogated Sam and went through the Impala for another round did Dean remember the fate of the mixtape. The next time they had quiet time in between cases Dean re-recorded everything, from _Ramble On_ to _Night Flight._

His finger hovered over the record button when it was time to copy _Your Time is Gonna Come_. Whatever choice he was gonna make was interrupted by Sam slamming the library door closed. Startled, Dean scrambled up from the desk and bumped his knees against the table.

"Jumpy?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow while he tossed Dean his order of a burrito with extra queso.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, gigantor," Dean muttered as he resisted the urge to keep recording. _Your Time is Gonna Come_ was put in at a time when he was feeling wounded and wanted to retaliate any way he could. Sam was beside him, and this wasn't a time to square accounts, and the song shouldn't have a place in the mix. He had his brother, and it had come at a great sacrifice. It didn't feel right to gift it back with spite.

Dean settled with _Tangerine_ which seemed like a better reflection of his current mood than _Your Time is Gonna Come_. It felt more like grief instead of anger, and he wanted the tape to be uplifting rather than negative.

He hasn't decided yet what he was going to do with the tape once it was finished. But with a little over five songs, it was still underdone. He felt lighter when he finished _Tangerine_. And since _Tangerine_ was heavy on angst, he followed it up with _All my Love_ , just to add a lighter (but still sad) song in there and tucked the tape safely away. This had been his most extensive unfinished work as it had spanned several years and several ups and downs, but there didn't seem to be an ending yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried so much in episode 300 guys, I'm happy I released the first chapter before that came out. Aww that was a lovely family reunion.
> 
> Led Zeppelin Songs recorded in Dean's Mixtape so far:
> 
> 1\. Ramble On  
> 2\. Travelling Riverside Blues  
> 3\. In the Evening  
> 4\. Stairway to Heaven  
> 5\. Good Times, Bad Times  
> 6\. Night Flight  
> 7\. Tangerine  
> 8\. All My Love
> 
> Or listen to it in Spotify: [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/gur7pukgzappiqhp5p7hj2qiq/playlist/0XmD14KTG09CHyX4F1adJj)


	3. There Will Still be You and Me

WHITEFISH, MONTANA 2012

Back when he was got out of Purgatory, he'd been so mad at Sam about Kevin and the hunt that he hadn't had the time to sit down and record. He'd repressed, and he'd repressed well. But Samandriel had forced it to the forefront.

He was practically fresh out of Purgatory and upset about losing Cas. Kevin had just added on to the entire emotional upset. Dean realized that he was recording the songs for Cas when he recorded _In the Light_ , just after he remembered Samandriel and his "too much heart" speech. So yes, after spending the better part of a year in Purgatory looking for the angel and the remaining time traveling with him, only to fucking fail and leave him behind, Dean reached for the mix and recorded. The song was haunting and appropriate for the moment: _In the light, you will find the road._

It was depressing to think that he was recording for his friend when Dean had left him, but the hunter had always learned suppression was crucial and the mixtape was a class A suppression tool. Besides, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page seems like they had it out for him: _Did you ever believe that I could leave you? Standing out in the cold?_

So yeah, the song hit close to home, and it went directly to the mix. He could breathe lighter when they had the angel back. He immediately recorded _Braun-Y-Aur Stomp_. Even if he didn't trust how Cas got out of Purgatory, getting him back was enough of a win to put the song in. Besides he wasn't going to make the same mistakes that he had before. Once he got Cas alone, they were definitely going to hash out what happened after Purgatory.

"Is that your unfinished mix?" Sam asked casually. The one you've been working on forever went unsaid. Sam kept one eye on the tape before looking at the seat that Cas was plastered in, watching the TV that he apparently missed while he was running around in Purgatory.

God, Dean's bad habits were rubbing off on the angel. Next Cas would be a borderline alcoholic. Dean ignored his brother's subtle jibe and listened to the country music with a half-goofy smile, _It's a friendship so pure, angels singing all around my door so fine._

That elicited a laugh from Sam, and they both looked at Cas, but his attention was caught up with whatever the motel's crappy TV was offering. Dean finished recording with a soft click then took the keys to the Impala to put away the tape, but said, "beer run," to Sam in explanation before he hustled off to do just that. He gave one last look at his small family before closing the door to the motel room.

Dean didn't think about the mix too much, but he reasoned that the tape should be done to educate Cas on the finer things in life. Because a Winchester not knowing classic rock was blasphemy that Dean couldn't stand for.

Cas didn't have music preferences, and Cas didn't understand pop culture references, so it made things difficult for song choices. With previous tapes, he knew what the person liked or disliked at least, but Cas was a blank slate. In a way, it was up to Dean to give Cas the best music possible because this would be his musical education. So he chose the songs with care, and he appraised the next song like he would consider what knife to bring on a hunt.

Before Purgatory, he and Cas had been in a crummy place in their friendship. They'd been mending bridges. Brothers-in-arms, fighting the losing battle against the apocalypse, which slowly morphed into an unlikely friendship. They'd been angry at each other, and hurt each other. But after Purgatory, he felt that the tape would be the best way to rebuild their friendship. Purgatory had been real and visceral, and the past hadn't seemed to matter in its gray landscapes. Besides, everyone in his makeshift family had a mixtape. It was about time that Cas had one too.

The tape would be an excellent gesture to reach out and show the angel that there were no hard feelings on his end. He'd wanted to give it to him after they found Cas, but the tape wasn't finished yet, so he put it away, choosing to listen to it later.

* * *

LEBANON, KANSAS 2013

Letting Cas go so that Dean could protect the angel and his brother was difficult, but ultimately something that he did not allow himself to second guess. Their safety was the most important thing. He'd given Cas all the cash he had in his wallet, a change of clothes, and their cellphone number for contact.

It did mean that in the middle of the night, with Cas gone and Sam asleep, Dean paced around the bunker, jittery and filled with worry for the angel. Cas, who had only been a celestial wavelength of intent, who had no practical experience for human things, and who had no marketable skills except wielding an angel blade.

To take his mind off his difficult choice, he went to his record player and grabbed the first vinyl he could get his hands on from his collection. He noted with a snort that it was _Houses of the Holy_ and cranked the volume up.

One good thing about having a more permanent place (one of the many good things about the bunker) was that he was allowed to have things that he could keep. He had his own room that he could decorate, and the hunter could pick up pieces from all the trips around the country that he just didn't do when he was living out of his car almost 24/7. He had a vinyl-to-cassette recorder and several pieces of vinyls that had been salvaged from various Goodwill stores and garage sales. He fell asleep with the croon of _The Rain Song_ playing in the background.

When he woke up a little groggy, there was white noise from the turntable reaching the end, but running out of track. Dean placed both of his palms against his eyes, seemingly to ward off the day before he rubbed his face then got up. He hesitated before he set up his recorder and copied _The Rain Song_ to his unfinished mixtape.

When the song ended, he wasn't sure about the addition. This song was about devotion, but also it has words like: _I've felt the coldness of my winter; I never thought it would ever go._ It was sentimental, and the arrangement was beautiful. Dean decided to keep it, and he ejected the tape, safely storing it in his desk before starting his day.

* * *

LEBANON, KANSAS 2014

Cas talked to Dean after they finished curing him; returning him to his human self after the weeks spent as a demon. He felt the concern from the angel, but it wasn't enough to keep Cas in the bunker. They both had their own worries, and they needed to figure out what they wanted. Dean reached for the mixtape after he went through all the pictures he kept in his room. With Sam out for food, he had a reasonable amount of time before he was disturbed.

He wandered to the garage and stared at the Impala. He closed his eyes as he remembered the indifference he had heaped on her. He turned back to his room, grabbed the stereo with the mix and he blasted the music on high as he washed Baby, rubbing his hand against the chrome, apologizing for the months of neglect when he was a demon.

He played the mixtape again from the beginning, listening to it and letting the music settle him into his bones, the way his small stint as a demon hadn't.

Dean worried about the flow of the mixtape when he brought it out after he'd been cured from being a demon. Usually, he took the songs, choose a theme and ordered the songs so that the transitions weren't too jarring from one melody to the next. But this particular one had been defiant and spontaneous, making it both easier to do and harder for the overall quality of the tape. He listened to it knowing that he only had two, at most three, songs left to record. Picking up the recorder when he was restless had been his habit for the past few years.

He listened to the riffs of the guitar, calm in the sea of dark thoughts swirling around his head. The music, along with taking care of Baby, helped him decide.

He didn't want to talk about the entire demon mishap, but the music felt right, especially when they crooned _What is and What Should Never Be_. Dean completed polishing the chrome of the Impala in the middle of the song. He took the album to his room and recorded it as the twelfth song on the cassette.

There was a soft knock on his door, which turned out to be Sam and his big box of pizza along with a six pack of beer. Thankfully, Dean'd already hidden the pictures he'd been looking at by then, and the only evidence of his current mood was the speakers and the song.

They stood there awkwardly until Sam said, "when are you ever finishing this tape?"

Dean rolled his eyes and took the out that had been handed to him. "When the tape wants to be finished." Dean eyed Sam's sling, and just the overall shuffling Sam was doing to get the food in with one hand. Dean took pity and helped his brother, laying the pizza on the bed for them to eat off of.

"You keeping this one?" Sam asked offhandedly while he picked a pizza off the box, settling on the room's only chair by the desk.

Dean snorted at Sam's questioning, knowing what his brother truly wanted to know but sidestepping it with, "I'm not giving you another mixtape. The last one I gave you, you burned into a CD!" He opened a beer can for Sam and rested it on the desk for his brother to pick up more easily.

"The ribbon got tangled!" Sam protested in his defense, his face morphed into an indignant scowl, clutching the pizza with his able hand.

Dean shook his head all the while muttering about ungrateful brothers. "Do you know how long it takes to create one of these? _Ages_ , Sammy, ages. And you go and make a CD! It's like spitting in my eye!"

"There was no eye spitting involved!"

"I would've fixed the tape, Sammy, I could've shifted the ribbons to another case, even if you'd snapped the ribbon, I could've spliced it, but what'd you do? You burned a CD." Dean said CD distastefully.

"I'm never living this down, am I?" Sam groaned, slouching over the desk in defeat, his forehead touching the can of beer.

"Uh-uh." Dean said before continuing on with, "do you know how much _planning_ goes into making a mix? Do you know how I have to obsess over getting the timing just right because the tape will end or just how many rules there are to making one?"

"I'm sure you're going to tell me," Sam muttered.

"Damn right," Dean agreed, lifting his beer can up in a salute before drinking.

* * *

LEBANON, KANSAS 2015

Cas' grace slowly dwindled after the angels were expelled from Heaven. He was an angel and coping with humanity badly. But his state worsened drastically after Rowena's attack dog spell. Dean played _In My Time of Dying_ morbidly, but he didn't add it to the mixtape and didn't introduce it to Castiel.

The angel already thought getting a cold was equivalent to dying, Dean was not adding any more horrifying ideas if he could help it. Besides, _In My Time of Dying_ felt more like Dean's hell song than Cas' fall from grace song. So he skipped it.

What he did do was open up room 15 and air it out. There were a _lot_ of isolated corners in the bunker, and most of them were unused, but he'd taken a microfiber sheet to stock room 15 coupled with a memory foam bed, just in case one of the guests wanted creature comforts. Unlike his own place, 15 was not filled with knick-knacks, but the best thing about it was that it was close by, so he'd manage to keep an eye out without being overbearing.

That done, he dragged Cas to the bed before setting up Sam's laptop with a trusty heatsink and speakers then clicked Netflix. Cas observed this all in amusement before Dean hip-checked the angel to get to the bed and crossed his feet at the ankles, Cas beside him.

"Are we watching something?" Cas asked, curious about the setup, but allowed the rearrangement of his person.

Dean was sure that Cas loved watching TV, maybe it was a remnant when angels observed humanity, and the TV was in a way, watching humanity in a different form. Netflix seemed like the next best option. "We're gonna binge watch all the Doctor Sexy that you missed."

Cas hummed folding his fingers on top of his stomach and waited expectantly.

"You can stay in this room while you recover, 'kay?" Dean said as he leaned back on the headboard, his arm brushing Cas' sleeve. He knew Cas'd been in the bunker several times already, and had actually stayed in this room a couple of times, but there hadn't been an explicit invitation to it. Dean thought that it was important. Because he did ask Cas to leave that one time, so taking it back was important. No matter if it was years late.

When he looked back at Cas, he found that the angel was already looking at him, with a small upturned twitch of the lips. Some people told Dean that Cas was challenging to read, but Dean was already learning to be a little conversational in Cas' unspoken language. "We watching? I took time to set this up, you know."

"Of course, Dean, " Cas said as he settled fully into the bed, pillow at his back and attention once again on the laptop.

Cas was midway through the third episode when he nodded off unexpectedly, his head bobbing as he dozed off, occasionally brushing against Dean's arm inadvertently. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen Cas this tired while he had his grace. He slowly extracted the laptop from between them and placed it on the table before grimacing at the way Cas was sleeping.

Cas' head was tilted at an angle that was bound to give the angel an awful crick in his neck when he woke up. He dimmed the lights and turned on a bedside lamp before giving Cas a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

Cas squinted up at him blearily before Dean whispered, "sorry, you looked uncomfortable." Cas rubbed his eyes again, but nodded and turned onto his side before he went back to sleep. Dean shook his head, thinking that Cas must be really tired to need rest and return to it without any protest. He took the spare blanket and covered Cas with it before going back to his own room.

Before he turned in for the night, Dean recorded the final song, _Thank you_. Which was just perfect musically for the last piece. It ended with a church organ that faded into silence that came back a few seconds later.

Dean popped the tape out, took the ever handy sharpie and thought on what to label it. Although the entire cassette was made of Zeppelin songs, he hadn't recorded the best of Led Zeppelin. Dean did think he managed to get almost all of his favorite songs on the cassette, barely making the cut of the 60-minute tape. He tapped his lip before he slowly wrote _Dean's Top 13 Zepp_ — he stops to think on how to write the last word, then finished with — _Traxx_ in big block letters.

* * *

GREENVILLE, ILLINOIS 2015

Dean held onto the tape for more than a few months because… he couldn't find the right time to give it. There just didn't seem to be a moment where the hunter could hand the tape over nonchalantly. Then suddenly, he was out of time, staring at his mother's grave giving out last will to his friends and family, going on a suicide mission with a soul bomb to purge the Darkness.

He folded the mixtape into Cas' hand when they hugged. Cas felt it, wrapped his hand around it, but didn't acknowledge it. Cas knew it wasn't something they'd talk about, and Dean was thankful that the angel understood and didn't comment. Cas clutched the last gift firmly and watched as Dean gave the Impala keys to Sam.

With one snap, he was there to meet Amara.

As with most things Winchester related, it didn't end as they thought it would. Soul bomb defused, Chuck and Amara, gone and Dean with his _dead mother's foot on his neck_. He didn't understand how this had become his life.

* * *

LEBANON, KANSAS 2016

Dean was a pretty laid back guy, but he felt anger constantly, always simmering in the forefront of his thoughts as he brooded over it. It scraped at his skin until the rawness of the feeling became almost blinding when he acts.

It came to the point where he didn't even understand what he felt when Cas appeared after a long time away and _ignored_ their messages. Dean was angry, not because they needed help with Dagon (although, yeah they could have used the back-up) but because he'd been worried about Cas' sorry ass. So yes, although Dean was concerned about Cas, Sam was already covering the worried department, leaving Dean free to be the one who was left feeling pissed off.

He'd cycled from pissed to upset to angry so quickly that he was getting whiplash and Dean couldn't stay for any more of that conversation because he'd end up doing things he would regret. He curbed the need to slam the door to his room but took out his frustration by forcefully opening his laptop and belligerently hacking into the Missouri public records for anything on Kelly and Dagon.

He clenched his jaw and balled his hand into a fist when two sharp raps at his door came because it was either one of two people. Sam, who would try to appease his anger or Cas, who would try to apologize of all things. As if an apology could fix the months of anxiety during which they'd received zero feedback from the angel.

Dean honestly didn't know which of the two he'd like to face now. He was spared the choice when Cas came in without waiting for an acknowledgment of his knock.

"Sorry, Dean."

And there was the apology that he didn't need. Dean stared childishly at the screen, because if Cas could ignore him for months, then he could tolerate a cold shoulder from Dean for at least a few hours. Dean crossed his arms in front of himself and leaned towards the laptop, very visibly intent on his work.

Cas approached him cautiously. "Um, I just wanted to—to return this." Cas left the tape at the edge of his table, tapped it twice, then turned to leave.

Cas returned his mix. _No one_ had ever returned his mixtape. There was a burning behind his eyes and the beginning of pounding in his ears.

"It's a gift." He snatched the mix from the table and tapped it with his fingers for emphasis before offering it back, arm outstretched to the angel while his eyes were pointedly still looking at his work. "You keep those."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Dean to be the one to introduce Cas to Netflix. Alas, in S11E04, it's actually Sam who does tell Cas what Netflix is. But in this version, Dean shows Cas Netflix by bingeing on a show, but Cas doesn't realize it was Netflix, cuz Dean loaded it already XD. Therefore Dean introduces Cas to Netflix inadvertently. Sam reinforces.
> 
> Initially I was writing _In My Time of Dying_ after Lucifer kills Castiel. However, Lucifer kills Castiel at the end of Season 12 to the beginning of Season 13, and the mixtape has canonically been given to Castiel at the indeterminate amount of time before season 12. (Most fanon believes Dean has given the mixtape right after Cas says I love you, I love all of you, and the mixtape is Dean's reply to Cas' confession) Besides, Dean is also correct, In My Time of Dying is Dean's death to Hell song. It's not something for Cas at all.
> 
> I am aware I skipped Cassie during the telling of this tale. As one of the serious relationships Dean had in the show, Cassie deserves her own mix. Unfortunately for Cassie she didn't fit in my story line XD. Maybe Dean didn't like her taste in music XD Maybe Dean didn't have time to do one, he was actively hunting then, alone at times even and when he was finally going to make her one, she broke it off.
> 
> Belated Unattached Drifter Christmas!
> 
> Just an epilogue to go guys and we're done.


	4. Epilogue

LEBANON, KANSAS 2017

On one of the rare occasions that all the Winchesters and Castiel are in the bunker, Mary stumbles upon Castiel while he's rummaging in one of the Bunker's old storage rooms, moving about one contraption and the next, squinting at the old machinery. Mary clears her throat, and the angel lifts his head up in acknowledgment but continues to move boxes around.

"Do you need help?" Mary offers as more machinery gives clunking protests at Castiel's manhandling. She worries over both the state of the room and the possible artifacts Castiel could be maltreating.

"I'm just trying to find something to play a tape with," Castiel says, annoyance lacing his voice as he blows out a tired breath and disturbing the dust that had settled.

Mary raises both eyebrows looking around at the room and then at the angel. "Um, I think the Men of Letters pre-dates the Walkman."

"I was afraid of that," Cas huffs with mild irritation wiping his brow from the dust that had clung to it. "It's just that, I haven't found anything to play my tape in, and my truck doesn't have anything but radio."

"You should ask Dean to help you with that," Mary suggests mildly. She inclines her head towards her room. "Come on, Dean gave me an old cassette recorder to listen to the Beatles; it's in my room. Settle down in the library, and I'll meet you there."

Castiel nods his agreement before they go on their separate ways. Once in her room, Mary untangles all the cords, ejects Dean's mixtape that he'd gifted to her some time back and proceeds to the library to deposit the tape deck in front of Cas.

The angel touches the player slowly, unsure of how it works. "Where's the tape you wanted to play?" Mary prompts.

Castiel reaches inside his trenchcoat pocket and extricates a black tape, handing it over carefully to Mary. She almost drops the mix when she reads the label, momentarily stunned at the implication. Apparently, her son flirts with the angel with obscure references that the angel couldn't possibly understand.

The scrape of the chair against the wooden floor breaks her out of her inaction as Castiel sits relaxed beside her.

The opening strains of _Ramble On,_ fill the library, which draws Sam from the kitchen, peeking into the room in curiosity. "Oh, hey, Dean finally finished that mixtape, huh? I thought he'd end up recording the entire Led Zeppelin library with the way he hoarded that tape."

Mary told herself it was unbecoming to gape, so she doesn't. She _does_ bite her lower lip against the smile that wanted to erupt. "And he helpfully forgot that his friend didn't have any way to listen to the said tape."

Sam's eyes rounded, and Mary could see the moment Sam connected the fact that Dean had given the music to _Cas_ instead of her. She could practically see the stutter in Sam's thinking process where he had to realign his understanding of the situation before he began again with, "Dean gave you a mixtape."

Cas, who'd been listening to the tape more than he was paying attention to the two of them now focuses on Sam. "Is… there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, no, no…" Sam backpedals, shifting his gears before emphasizing, "I'm _happy_ , really. I mean I'd hoped, but I just thought he'd never—" He cleared his throat, stopping muddled explanation that was becoming more awkward as he rambled, ending with, "I'm happy you connected with it.

Unsaid was the fact that Dean had difficulty making meaningful long-term connections. In the short time that Mary had been reacquainted with her sons, that much had become apparent.

Mary smiles, she remembers that John would make her mixtapes at least every month. They had gotten together over the shared love of Beatles, so of course, they had shared music between them as well. Their house had been filled with the strains of guitar, alternative and rock classics.

They'd talk about the tape while taking care of Dean, and the subsequent month, John would follow up with the next mix based on what they'd discussed. He would record old songs, but he'd bring in something new as well. It was something to look forward to as the month drew to a close. "You know, you should tell Dean which of the songs in the tape you liked best," Mary suggests.

Sam emphatically nods his head to second the statement. "Yeah, these are Dean's songs. I'm sure you could find your own songs as well."

"But I like these songs," Cas mumbles, hand reaching towards the tape recorder.

Mary thought if she bit her lip harder, she was going to bleed. "Yeah. Go on and tell him that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Dean's mixtape, Maybe in the future we'll write a Cas listens to the mixtape in this thing but that's it. Thank you for reading!
> 
> I wrote this because I saw a meme in FB saying:
> 
>   
>  [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/siuane/media/AO3/49837007_422541498285491_7099381718229975040_n.jpg.html)   
>    
> 
> 
> I remembered, one of my closest friends in college gave me a mixtape. (And like Sam I burned it into a CD) and like Cas... I don't listen to music (well I do, when I read echo, just so it's not dead air, but if no one plays it I don't really look for it, and it distracts me so much). So he must have been really frustrated. Unlike Dean though, he doesn't have feelings for me (at the time, I really really liked him) but he is gay. He gave out mixes to his really close friends as gifts. He continues to do so now and makes one every time in Spotify. Check out his [playlists](https://open.spotify.com/user/22pkre5jpkxpuoapjn5ruo6qy). When I was younger, I played one of his mixes on repeat because I thought I was gonna fail my chemistry classes, and it made me feel really really good. So I think I tried to get that feeling here.
> 
> So this was heavily inspired by him, and I asked him a lot of questions while writing this. I hope you guys liked it. I will confess now that it's over... that I am so not musically inclined. I had to google a lot of Led Zeppelin references and listen to the songs and read the lyrics. I worked with someone who played the violin regularly for a couple of months, he was so musically inclined that he told me when he listens to music he hears notes. WHen I listen to music I hear words (or I listen really hard to the lyrics), I don't mind the notes, although yes, the beat and the rhythm matter, but they're secondary to the words.
> 
> This has been the first time I've actually stuck to a semi-regular writing schedule and I kinda like it XD Next up is the [Fairytale AU PB exchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PBExchangeFairyTale). I'm excited for that one, it'll probably be this short as well. What fairytales are your favorite? *grins* I already have a few things thought out but idea generation conversations are always great.
> 
> Dean's entire Zepp is 67 minutes... XD the tape could only accommodate 60 min or 90min XD Creative license guys. Robin's made it to 60 tho.
> 
> If you want to listen to these songs in Spotify:  
> [Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx](https://open.spotify.com/user/gur7pukgzappiqhp5p7hj2qiq/playlist/0XmD14KTG09CHyX4F1adJj)  
> [Robin in Acoustic](https://open.spotify.com/user/gur7pukgzappiqhp5p7hj2qiq/playlist/7zZrGVBcj7BRpoLDooOvxI)


End file.
